August 2010 Archives

You've gotta admit, an episode of I Love Lucy where they do a triathlon would be hilarious. If only I'd been a writer for them in the late 60s. Instead, I'll just hang out with my own Lucy.

I think this speaks bounds of perfection, beauty and bloggeryness. So, here's my single photo pictorial essay of what I did this weekend.

If you've ever done a triathlon, I think you know what this means. If you've ever been a mom, you see the beauty on the back of our calves there. Even if you've never done a tri and you're not a mom, the beauty is still there.

That's how we roll.
Song of the day: Wild Child by Enya

I bet if I served this up to my kids for dinner, they'd critique it somehow. And it doesn't get much better than this, y'all - it's a bowl full of cherries. They'd find something wrong with it.

My kids are good kids. They are beautiful, brilliant, and funny, and fun. They are good kids. There's just a few realities I'd like to take a moment to point out to you, and to my kids. Number one, they can't seem to eat, nothing is good enough for their childish palates lately. Number two, they leave their stuff out everywhere. Let's start with number one.

I realize I've made some fairly extreme efforts to eat healthier here. And all of my friends will tell you, I'm the mean mom who, when they tell me their kids won't eat this or that, I tell them to make them. Because typically, that's worked for me. Until now, well, when that whole fish incident happened, I had to review my mothering you-will-eat-this-now techniques. But I'd say for the last month or so, they do something to hesitate, wince, or critique my cooking. I would take this into consideration and revamp my cooking. But Ricardo likes it. And the other morning when I made almost 50 chocolate chip pancakes - I serve them the first ones, literally hot off the griddle. And then while they eat, I continue pouring and flipping. And they don't like the effn chocolate chip pancakes because, and this seriously came out of their mouths, "Mommy, it's too chocolatey." That was the straw before the straw that broke this camel's back. The straw that actually broke my back was last night.

Last night I made a delicious eggplant parmesan lasagna. It was wholesome goodness. It was healthy and kid friendly in that it met some yummy melty cheese quota, I'm sure of it. I spent an hour and a half making the lasagna. You couldn't even tell there was eggplant in it. It did come out a bit more watery from the tomatoes than I'd anticipated. Still, I drained it a bit and it was good.

But Sir Max and Madame Lucy sat down, assessed it, picked around and were not approving of their meal. They ate the bread I served with it and then cited they were full and I gave them too much. This is their new defense against homemade meals at our house, "They are full." It's a constant at our house. We tell them they are going to eat it. And then they balk and we say you need to eat 7 bites, or something like that. And it takes a half hour of nagging to get them to eat. This was the dance last night. It's exhausting, but I got them to eat it. Lucy finished first and then, remember how full she was - she asked for an apple for dessert. I was ticked, but the girl asked for an apple, y'all. So, while Max sat at the table staring at his bowl of food he was refusing to eat, I let Lucy have an apple. She finished it and then asked for another one. And that might be when I lost it. So, I might have gone a little crazy-yelly-mommy and that point. I explained that I was tired of cooking for them and then they won't eat it. It doesn't matter if it's good or not, they immediately critique it. I'm tired of it and my feelings are hurt. I mean, it was cheesy yummy delicious lasagna, y'all. And that's when I explained they have to make their own meals now. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And no more snacks.

I'm making the kids make their own meals for a week. Tonight is taco night. I'm going to make it for Chris and I. Serve it. Call them to the table. And then tell them to make their own dinner. It better be as great and victorious as I envision.

I must have been on a roll because when I got up to go tuck them into bed, I stepped on one of their shoes, and then had to step over a rain poncho. Mind you, it hasn't rained here in well over a week. I turned the corner and there was Max's backpack with his unfinished lunch in the middle of the floor, standing upright, papers pouring out, and his water bottle setting next to the back pack. Like he'd just had a picnic in our living room and then walked away. I envisioned the next morning of him not being able to find his lunch bag, his water bottle not washed to take to school the next day, and then losing his spelling list. Because trust me, even though it was right there in the middle of the living room, he'd never be able to find it in his great running-late hour of need.

Then I remembered all the times in the last month, I've gone to tell them to pick this up, or remember their responsibilities, only to be interrupted by them telling me one more thing they just have to have for their upcoming birthday. And that might be when I started yelling. I started off with a threat that if they left ONE thing out of place, on the kitchen island, on a chair, on the floor, or blocking the doorway out on the patio, I would cancel their birthday. It worked, because they got to picking everything up. But while they picked it all up, I realized that asking for absolute perfection was a bit much. Still, I let them pick up the entire house before I recanted my threat.

I took back the threat and then explained, anything on the floor or out of place is going to charity - and it will NOT be replaced, a backpack, a lunch bag, a game controller, a stuffed animal, any of it. It's gone. Thankfully, Ricardo and I have proven ourselves on this in the past. They know we'll do it. I told them they needed to stop telling me what to get them for their birthday and start taking care of what they own already.

I sent them to bed in great hopes and exhaustion that my nagging worked this time. I think to myself, "I really think I got through to them this time." And then the bedtime stalling begins. Max comes down explaining in ridiculously strewn out and broken sentences that he and Lucy have been talking (when they should have been reading and sleeping) and they've decided they just really don't want to eat vegetables anymore. It was the perfect time to laugh in the kids' face. But I could tell his sister had sent him down to make this plea. She'd thrown him to the wolves. So, I simply allowed for awkward silence to follow his lame explanation and then said, "You will eat your vegetables. Go to bed. I love you."

I have really great kids. And they are also spoiled and ungrateful. Bring it on kids. Bring it on. Mommy's on a cooking and cleaning timeout. Don't worry, I still have plenty of laundry to do. This better work.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: The Middle - by Jimmy Eat World

You know you live in Nebraska when the grass starts to bud into corn. I'm just sayin. I planted tomatoes, watermelon, cilantro, brocolli, lettuce, squash and zuchinni in the garden this year. Nothing grew in the garden. Nothing but the corn.

Ahhh, yes. Fall is upon us and that means two things: football and corn. Both of which were points of activity at my home last night.

Max is playing football. I thought it would be real funny to serve him corn after a hard evening of 7-year-old football practice. Mind you, it's tackle, so it really is hard for them. I mean, just keeping their heads upright with those helmets on their heads is enough.

We have a ton of fresh corn here. Being that we live in the middle of corn and all. So, I cooked up some corn on the cob. And I must say, I've lived here long enough to understand the ways of corn. It's like Bubba Gump going on about shrimp. Except here, it's corn: corn salad, corn patties, corn syrup, fried corn, steamed corn, corn casserole, barbecued corn, cheesy corn, corn salsa, corn fajitas, baked corn, broiled corn, corn soup, sweet corn, corn feed. And on and on. But one thing that everyone will agree on - there's nothing better than corn on the cob. And amen to that. It is the best corn ever. I suppose if you visit Nebraska, you should see the Unilateral Capitol, and I guess the zoo, and the College World Series, but before you do any of that, get some fresh, local, corn on the cob.

So tonight, we're all eating and I realize we have corn patterns. Lucy and I like to eat our corn while rotating the cob around. Ricardo eats his corn in a horizontal pattern, in rows. And then we see Max. I've never seen anything like it - he eats his corn randomly. Just a bit here, a bite to the left, to the right, turning the cob. It's hillarious. It reminds me of the way Lucy runs: sporadic and fantastic with joy. Respect a man who eats his corn any damned way he feels like it. I'm just sayin.

That's how Max rolls.
Song of the day: Despertar by Aisha Duo

This morning, I had a rare meeting, and since it was all the way on the other side of the Big O, I volunteered to pick up books for Ricardo at UNO for fall classes. He needs those books so that he can continue ruining the curve in each of his classes and all. I suppose I should have known when his eyes lit up and he acted all "COULD YA PLEASE?! REALLY!? OKAY! THANKS!"

Some couples have the same personalities. Ricardo and I have very complimenting personalities. I talk, he listens. Well, he appears to listen, he nods and acknowledges that noise is coming from my vicinity. And really ladies, that's all we really need, right? I laugh loudly, usually at all of his funny jokes, and on occasion I point and laugh at him. I am annoying and eager. He is calm, cool, and awesome. When we get home from a party, he can tell me everything everyone said, I can review what I said. And he needs only food for sustenance, and if there's a bathroom and fresh water, that's bonus. I need to spend money on something shiny and new every day. So, when he got all excited about me picking up his books, I figured it would be nice to do something for him. And books are shiny and new. So this will work out great.

Ricardo texted me what books to get for what classes or whatever. I'm trying to remember what I did in college. I think I went to class the first day, and had the professor hold up the book, so I could totally judge the book by the cover and then go get it. That's clearly the ways of the solid C student I was. But he's all over achiever with getting his books before class even starts. Whatever. Right before I walk out the door to my meeting and then to get his books at the bookstore on campus, he zips by and barely says, "Oh by the way, I think today might be the first day of classes, so you might have a hard time finding parking."

He was right, parking was a wee bit difficult. The good news is I was a visitor, and my minivan has lots of quarters for gumball machines and temporary tattoos. So, I had change for the meter and all. I headed toward the student center/book store. What the heck? There's twenty year olds everywhere. And is that a live band covering the Black-Eyed Peas? What, what? And then I remembered where I was, I was on a college campus on the first day of school. I looked around. And realized I had no backpack, I'd just rolled up in my minivan, and oh yeah...I'm 36 years old.

I texted Ricardo, "This place is crawling with twenty year olds and there's a live band here! When I get home you're going to need to tell me how pretty and young I am. They didn't have this at WT when I was there."

Ricardo re-assured me that I am pretty and young and then he thanked me for getting his books. I walked out of the book store poor and reflected on my lazy days of college. Walking by each kid, I could see hope for their future in their eyes. And then I realized, by day three, they'll be sleeping in til noon, ignoring bills, hoping they'll just go away, skipping classes, breaking up with their significant others, gathering all of their change in their ashtray for a run to Taco Bell, and calling mom and dad for money. I hopped in my car and thought, "Is Thursday night still bar night in college?" And then I drove back home in my minivan that's paid for, to my home with a full fridge and balanced bank account, well adjusted kids, and my husband that still likes me. Life at 36 is good.

College made me feel old today. And grateful.
That's how I roll.
Song of the day: Better Days by Eddie Vedder

After the whole cable gig, I must have been on a roll, or had a mental momentum of something crazy like CLARITY and all. Because we are back on school schedule over here. Mornings are just fine, until I look at the clock and see that everyone is awake, most of us are dressed, and no one has brushed their teeth or hair, and one of us can only find one shoe. And we should have left for school five minutes ago. Other than that, everything is right on schedule.

But yesterday, in all the rush, an idea - a glimmer of genius - just popped in my head. I grabbed my coffee, and my gym bag and got all of my stuff in the car. And then calmly with a big grin on my face, I grabbed the Clorox wipes, and a plastic bag and put them in the back seat.

Max and Lucy got their backpacks on and jumped in the car. I shut their door, happily told them to buckle up, and then as we were backing out of the driveway,
"Uh, Mom, what's this?"

"Oh, yeah! That's wipes. You two need to clean out the drink holders and the nasty whatever is in those compartments back there. You'll need to scrub until we get to school. Be sure to place the wipes in the bag when you are finished."

And with that, they took on the task. Every now and then I'd hear a moan of disgust. Which was the sound of sweet victory. Those two slobs have no one to blame for the 18 layers of brownish hardened scum in the back of the minivan but themselves, and they know it.

At the light, I glanced in the rear view mirror and was rewarded with the eye candy of my kids scrubbing diligently.

"Mom! I can't get it! It's too hard! And it's gross!"

"I KNOW, Isn't it!? Keep scrubbing!" I sang in my best June Cleaver voice.

I even strategically stalled to leave so that we'd get stuck in traffic - on purpose. It put us in a holding pattern while they scrubbed for an extra 8 minutes. I think I deserve some kind of mommy badge of honor for this one.

When they ran out of Clorox wipes, I pulled up to the school, kissed them goodbye and let them out. And that's when I heard,
"We shouldn't have drinks back there anymore."
"Yeah, that or gum. That's too hard to clean up!"

I am in love with myself. I want to hug me.

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Happy Working Song by Amy Adams from the movie Enchanted

Kids, its time to stop staring at the tv and start enjoying the view outside. That there is what we call nature...

We got rid of cable again. The last time we did it, the kids were oblivious. And I really had to fight for my cable to be turned off. And then we remodeled the tv room, and lo, a nice flatscreen tv mounted its way to our home. So, it only seemed fair to get cable to honor the prized possession. We got cable, cable boxes, the whole nine-yards. Somewhere in there, while not having cable, I think I decided to do comedy. And through that, I met my pal, uh, lets call her Hazel. She's a brilliant comedianne and also works at Cox Cable.

But this time we accidentally tipped the kids off before we did it. "But mom whyyyyyy?!" In their best Nancy Kerrigan rendition.
"Uh - because I'm paying $$ for you to ignore me. And that's not really working out for me." But they didn't hear me because the commercials had ended and their show was back on.

That and I really hate the shows they've matured to. Gone are the days of iCarly and Hannah Montana. As far as they are concerned Disney can suck it and Nickelodeon is almost there too. They've upgraded to Cartoon Network. And their favorite show on that channel, and mind you, the most appropriate, but not really all that appropriate anyways, but the most appropriate show is Adventure Time. Adventure Time is drawn by some really lazy punks. The animation is lame and bizarre. And the storylines are apparently written during mandatory smoke outs. If you know what I mean. I am always confused and perplexed, I assume because I am sober. But there's usually one line in there that makes me laugh out loud. And then the kids look at me and ask, "Why are you laughing? That wasn't the funny part, Mom." Ricardo and I have won that battle though. We mention one or two lines from that show so much, that us thinking its funny is enough to not care about it anymore.

The rest of Cartoon Network is full of annoying cartoons. I realize Disney and Nickelodeon are tough for some to stomach. I understand. I had my fair share of repulsion with Barney, Caillou and the Teletubbies. And that was all public television. But you've got to admit that iCarly and True Jackson, VP are fun and creative and give kids hope and dreams that they can do anything. Even Phinneas and Ferb has kids that invent anything, but it's always for good, and that story line is so layered and brilliant, I make the kids watch it with me. Cartoon Network gives really crappy ideas on how to start fires or talk shit to their parents.

Ofcourse our biggest problem with the tv is ignoring us while it's on. It's like they are paralyzed when the tv is on. We can't even let them have fun Friday dinner and a show on because they can't seem to watch tv and get food in their mouths. It's physically impossible. We are literally paying for the kids to ignore us.

One day, while opening up the cable bill, Lucy was watching an episode of iCarly on the computer. I thought, "Interesting, that's free, and cable is not." The kids have the computer, and a ps3, plus, each now has tvs in their rooms they can play the ps3 or dvds. They each have DS games as well. All that and they also have bikes, skateboards, rollerblades, and a playroom they never use.

They also both love to read. However, they do not love to turn off the tv to read. The transition is virtually impossible. It starts when they ignore my requests to turn off the tv, and then when they are paralyzed and simply can't find the remote, I have to find it and turn it off, because they can't hear me telling them, "The remote is right there, right there, right there!"

If y'all remember last time, we downgraded to rabbit ears for tv use. We almost did that, but then I remembered that Conan O'Brien was coming on TBS this fall. I've been protesting NBC completely during late night shows, even though I'm not Nielsen Ratings Family - I'm hopefully making my own point. And I've been waiting for my Coco to return. So, I relented on the antennae and got basic cable for Conan O'Brien.

So, I called up my pal, Hazel at Cox Cable. This conversation was much more fun, even though Hazel explained that the entire call was being recorded and monitored. Still, there's just way too much with Cox Cable and getting rid of my cable BOXES from COX and I'm talking to a fellow comedianne. So, I had a hey day with it. Hazel could laugh but that was it. It might have been the best comedy set I've ever done. Hazel is compensated for upgrading customers. I don't know what happens to her when customers downgrade and use up an hour of her time on their comedy bits. But she was more worried about the kids devastating lives when the cable goes away.

"Oh Hazel, the next time they see you, I'm going to tell them 'Hey kids! This is the lady who turned off your cable!'"

Hazel was more worried about the kids hating her than anything. So, she turned off our digital boxes. That's cool that she has that power. But our regular cable was still on, just no DVR or high-def stuff. She had to put in a service order to have the cable turned off. And just like that last lady, except different, she says, "Okay, you won't be charged for it, but the cable guy will be out in two weeks." She's letting the kids have as much cable as she can.

And with that, we packed up our boxes and remotes and the kids, and made them go with us to turn in them in. (The cable boxes, not the kids.) You would have thought we were driving to a funeral. They were so quiet and solemn. We explained that getting rid of cable was saving us $75 a month. And that it was for our good as much as theirs. They seemed to be good with that.

When we told them about the cable we promised they could watch Saturday morning cartoons and then we told them that's when we used to watch cartoons early in the morning because that's the only time we could have our shot at what we wanted to watch. So this week I woke up early to work. Lucy apparently gave me some serious paybacks. She woke up at 6:30 citing it was time to watch Saturday cartoons. I suppose now is a good time to mention Saturday cartoons don't start til 9...

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Backyard Beach - Phineas and Ferb Soundtrack

For just a moment, I'm going to do a happy dance. Who are we kidding? I do a happy dance just about every day. But today, my very uncoordinated thumpy feet wailing sporadically is devoted to the fact that the kids go back to school. I like my kids and I have a lot of fun with them. And I really hate telling them, "Mommy's writing about her feelings hold on a minute." So, I don't. I simply don't write, work, talk on the phone, and I try not to Facebook when the kids are around either. Okay, let's be real, sometimes I end up on the phone. And I did reserve Mondays this year for "Mommy has to work a little bit today."

But this summer, I've really tried to pay attention to my kids. It seems I'm fairly good at finding distractions though. Or there's just that much stuff to get done. You know, menial stuff that only the health department looks at like dirty dishes overflowing out of the sink on to the counter. If the dishes block my coffee pot, the wrath of mommy could very well impact their entire day. Other silly things include laundry, showers, vacuuming 6" of dog hair off the floor, cooking, grocery shopping, camps, chauffeuring, picking up Farley the Wonderdog's land mines, mowing the weeds, and on occasion picking up the obstacle course mainly known as shoes around here. As I type, there are three pairs of shoes peppered throughout the living room. Just for fun, on my path to the coffee pot - that's the room next to the living room, I counted 4 more pairs of shoes. I hate to see what the path to their closets looks like, so I don't look.

Still, with all of that stuff to do, I really feel like my efforts this summer were effective. I listened to my kids a little better. I laughed with them a lot. And my kids responded to it well. Max and Lucy are on to me though. They are just as ready to get away from Mom who's "been unusually up in our bidnez a little more this year." And Lucy especially, let me hold her hand. A luxury, I'm learning, that won't last forever.

Today my babies go back to school. Third Graders. They will learn cursive, and division and multiplication this year. And that's just in the classroom. I shudder to think of what they'll learn on the playground.

Most moms about this time, are really ready to send their kids back to school. They slow down to 15 mph in the school parking lot throw their backpacks out and tell them to have a nice day. I get it. But this year, I'm really going to miss hanging out with them. I'm looking forward to being a bit more on top of work and writing, but I'll miss them too. They are my favorite distraction of all.

We walked the kids to school today, and as we crossed the street, I reached for Lucy's hand one more time. She obliged and we held hands and talked about how much fun school was going to be. Then all of the kids in all of the lines started to come into view. And that's when Lucy tried to drop my hand. I gave her one last squeeze.

"Mom, not in front of my friends." Suggesting that she'll still hold my hand at other points.

"Okay, baby."

And they ran off into the sea of anticipation and hope for all things new this year. And I ran back home to get some work done.

That's how I roll.
Song of the Day: Leaky Little Boat - Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers

Yesterday, JulzHOLLA! and I did the Omaha Triathlon. "Oh gosh, here we go again about triathlons." Uh, you on the front row, shut up. Yes, here I go again, because this time it was a really big deal. For some reason, because it was local and our gym was sponsoring it, and we're all crazy triathletes, we thought it would be a really great idea to sign up for this triathlon right here in town.

Then we were on the news and all. We lugged all of our kids down to the lake to support and promote the Omaha Tri, and also, to be thrust into celebrity status.

This triathlon is a really big deal for me. It's my marathon. Because I will not do a marathon. But if I did, it would take me almost as long as this triathlon took: roughly 4 hours. Okay, a marathon might take me 5 hours. Anyways, for the sake of this conversation, this is my marathon. And training for this has been difficult because I'm a mom and it's summer and "Kids, let's go back to the gym today, mommy needs to do a 3 hour workout" just isn't cutting it. So, I might have skimped as much as I could on the workouts. Tack on that roadtrip, and just summer in general, work, and JulzHOLLA!'s summer schedule, and you have one big fat what-the-hell-were-we-thinking cluster when it came to preparing for this triathlon.

"Big deal, you do triathlons like all the time." Again, down in the front row, jack. We do Sprint Triathlons. Typically sprint tris are Swim: 400-800meters (sometimes in a pool, sometimes it's an open water swim, Bike 12-15 miles, Run 3.1 miles. And yes, I used the metric/english measuring systems intermittently. That's how I roll. And Olympic Distance is DOUBLE the distance of a Sprint: Swim 1 mile in open water, Bike 26 miles, Run 6.2 miles. And I don't know how it happened, seeing as how The Big O is smack in the middle of these "great plains" and all, but the course director happened to find every steep hill in Omaha for the 26 miles of biking, and it turns out, for the run too. Nice. I think Lewis and Clark failed to map this part of the Midwest out. I'm just holding the historians accountable is all I'm sayin.

We even suckered our pal, Cricksta into driving down here and doing this triathlon with us. I'm so glad she did because she brought me some new tunes, and she's just overall a badass and a ton of fun to hang out with.

The swim was fun. It's my best part of the race. Which makes me kind of cool, because not many people own the swim as their best part. It also sucks because all those people I passed on the swim - they pass me right back on the bike or the run. I get done with the swim and think "Well, there goes the best part of your race, time to do the rest. Good luck with all that, Chump."

I opted to use a Camelback on this ride because it's the longest ride I've done, and it's really a tough course, and I've been known to not handle water bottles on moving vehicles before. So, as we were getting ready, the man I refer to as JulzHOLLA's bikestore boyfriend, Bryan walks by and says, "You're totally going to rock this out today." I ask him real quick if Camelbacks are legal. And he says, "Well, they are legal, but they are not cool." Good point, I decide to wear it anyways because what would really not be cool is wrecking while trying to drink and drive my bike down hill at 35 mph.

Somewhere on the bike I kept leap-frogging with a few people. Depending on their preferences and mine, I'd pass or be passed going down hill, and then meet back up with these few poor people going up the hill. At about mile 5 or so, some guy I'd been leap-frogging with a bit, simply slowed down as he passed me and said, "You know what, I need someone to talk to, can we just pace the same and will you talk to me."

"Oh my Gosh. Who sent you? Talking is my favorite thing to do!"

And a friendship was born. Because it took us 2 hours to do the bike race, poor James had to hear me yap the whole way.

I had another first at the T2 (that's triathlon talk for the second transition from bike to run), I thought it best to hit the port-a-potty before jogging for an hour, seeing as how I'm a mom and that pee thing never really subsides. It gets better, but....well, you know. So, there's a new first and a definite difference from Sprints to Olympics.

It turns out that the first time James had ever swam in a lake, was that mile we just did at 6:30a.m. this morning! Wow. His cousin called him a few months ago and said, "Hey let's do this triathlon." James agreed and got 7 other of his "friends" to do the triathlon with him. And then they all bailed, including that lame ass cousin of his. But James stuck to it, and showed up all on his own. And rocked this mutha out.

I thought for sure James would take off in a dead sprint for the run portion, to escape the yappy lady. But I caught him on the run and we finished the race together. At some point on the run, he needed to hit a port-a-potty. I thought to myself, "Wow, he's really desperate to get rid of me. I'll make it easy on him." But then he said, "Will you wait up for me?" How sweet is that? I think James thought I was helping him. But really he helped me out quite a bit. When I'm out on a triathlon course, it's kinda lonely. JulzHOLLA! and I train together, but we have different strengths and different paces. It's kind of an Every-Man-For-Himself kind of a race. What, with all those people passing me on the bike. I mean, I have an awesome bike, I'm in fairly good shape, and still, they pass me. I don't get it. And I don't care mostly. I'm still doing this triathlon, and that's all that matters to me. So, having James there to talk to and be distracted from the large hills, burning ham strings, and achey toes, well, I think he helped me out more than he knows.

At the end of our run - and let's be real here - it was more like a run/walk gig, James and I agreed, I'd go first then him so we could each have our moment to ourselves across the finish line. That part is important.

I ran the last few yards, and looked out onto the lake I'd conquered, uh, ahem, 3 1/2 hours ago, reveled in the fact that I did that ridiculous bike course, and I'm swinging around the corner and I finished and walked right into some kind of fantasy, three men were there to greet me, one with an ice cold towel he put on my back, one with a bottle of water and one with a medal. the guy with the water bottle asked if I was okay, I said yes, but could really use a hug. And he hugged me. Life is good. And then I found Ricardo, who got up at 3:30a.m. with me and hung out and cheered me on everytime I went by. Life is GRAND. I did this. I effn did this, y'all!

I'm gazing into this guy's eyes, luring him in for a hug.

Afterward, I got home and showered and got ready for my pals to come over and lounge and celebrate our awesomeness! One of my new pals, I met through doing this triathlon at one of the practice swims. When I asked if she wanted to come over afterwards to revel in all of our glory, she asked if she could make a cake. Once again, "Oh My Gosh! Who sent you!?" went through my head. It turns out that fate has brought us together, we do triathlons, she makes cake, and I eat cake. She brought over this beautiful cake. And she brought me an extra tub of homemade frosting. I think I'm in love. Is that wrong?

This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

So, this triathlon was a huge accomplishment for me. I made some cool new friends. And because I did it, watching JulzHOLLA! cross the finish line was a great honor. I am so proud of her. I am proud of us. And I'm so proud to have her as my friend, and training partner!

That's how I roll.
Song of the day: This just came to me. Just sub "triathlete" for gangsta: Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta - Office Space Soundtrack (EAR MUFFS, Y'ALL)